The soft rustling of leaves accompanied Liliana as she made her way back to the private garden. She found Theodore not by his easel, but kneeling beside a chest, carefully wrapping his paint tubes and brushes in soft cloths. A sense of unease settled in her stomach. He usually found solace in this garden, spending hours capturing the vibrant colors of the blooming flowers on canvas. This sudden activity felt out of place.
"Lord Theodore?" Liliana's voice was gentle, a question hanging in the air.
Theodore looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before being replaced by a strained smile.
"Your highness. You are here." He quickly returned his attention to the chest, tucking a sketchbook beneath a layer of neatly folded linen.
"What's wrong?" Liliana asked, stepping closer. Her eyes scanned the scene – the half-packed chest, the scattered art supplies yet to be stowed away. "Why the sudden restlessness? You were so engrossed in your painting the other day."
